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About Bandon recorder. (Bandon, Or.) 188?-1910 | View Entire Issue (Dec. 6, 1889)
Small ami Early. When Dorothy and I took ten, we bat upon the floor. No matt r how much tea I drank, she always iruve me more; Our table was the scarlet box In which her ten-set came. Our guestb. an nrrnlesg. one-eyed doll, a wood en horse gone lame. She poured out nothing, very fust,—the tea pot tipped on hi.’ h.— And in the bowl found sugar lumps unseen by my dull eye. She added rich (pretended) cream—it seemed a willful waste. For though she overflowed the cup, it did not change the taste. She asked, “'lake ml'k?” or “Sugar?” and though 1 answered. “No,” She put them In, and told me that I “must take it so!” 8he’<) say. “Another cup. Papa?” and I, “No, thank you. Ma'am,*' But then 1 had to take It—her courtesy was sham. Still, being neither green, nor black, nor En- giish-breakfasi tea. It did not wive her guests the “nerves”— whatever those may be. Though often 1 upset my cup, she only mind ed when I would mistake the empty cups for those she’ll tilled again She tasted my cup gingerly, for fear I’d burn my tongue: Indeed she really hurt my pride—she made me feel so yeung. 1 must have drank some two-score cups, and Dorothy sixteen. Allowing only useful time to pour them, in between. We stirred with massive pewter spoons, and sipped in courtly ease. With all the ceremony of the stately Japan ese. At length she put the cups away. “Good night, Papa/’^she said; winriTUH rttrtvn, and Dbrothy *.«_> bed. —Tudor Jenks, in St. Nicholas. AUNT CILIA'S NIECES. It win that pleasantest time of all the year, when apple-trees were in bloom and the meadows were starred over with dandelions, and Livia Lay- ton sat in the window of tue cottage Mitring, with her exquisite profile out- dined like a cameo against the darkness of the. inner room. Somehow Livia Layton was always doing pretty things. Doubtless there were disagreeable services to be per formed at Sycamore cottage as well as elsewhere, but if any one did them it was not Livia. Old Aunt Cecilia Ram say had been sick and died there, but Livia had kept well away from the invalid's chamber. •‘I never could endure sick people,” said Livia, with ashudder. “The very sight of medicine makes me ill; and thé air is always so stifling, and inva lids groan so, and make themselves so disagreeable.” “But, Livia, they can’t help it,” said downright Patty, who had worked like a beaver. “Well, then, they ought to," assert ed the beauty. And her systematic avoidance of life’s unpleasautness was all the easier, because, as she herself remarked, Patty seemed to take to such things so naturally. Here she sat, the blonde-haired, blue-eyed elder sister, stitching in the pink reflections of the apple-trees, cool aud beatific, while Patty fudged up from the village, her face unbecoming ly flushed and her poor little patched boots covered with dust. “Dear me.” said Livid, critically sur- Wi iu^gBtu* newcomer “bow liiqridly hot and dusty you look! ( Did you get the French rolls?” “Yes.” “And my note paper and postage stamps?” “Yes." “And the toilet soap and coffee? I will not drink that miserable stuff they keep here any longer!” protested my lady. “I have got them all,” said Patty, putting her parcels on the table and stretching out her wearied arms to rest the muscles, “ami a letter from the postofliee, too!” “For me?" “Yes, for you. Livia, why does Mr. Valiquet keep writing to you every quarter just the same as he did when Aunt Cilly was alive?” “I suppose he wnnts to be sure we are not dying of starvation,” Livia re torted, with a short laugh. “We are no business of his!” “He was Aunt Cilly’s nephew. We are her nieces.” ‘•But it’s on the other side of the familv. We are no relation at all to him.’1 “And it’s no great loss to lis, I im agine,” said Livia, with a toss of the fair head. “A haughty, supercilious fellow, who has never taken the trouble to come up here and see us!’’ “Why should lie, Livia? Oh, Livia,” exclaimed Patty, “what is that?” For an oblong slip of paper had fallen out of the letter. Livia made a snatch at it, but she was too late. It was already ill Patty’s hand. She was looking blankly at it. “A check,’’ she cried. “For $100! Livia, why is Paul Valiquet sending you money?” Livia laughed discordantly. “Oli yor iroose!” allC_cried. “It’s for Aunt Cilly’s board and lodging and medical expenses.” “But Aunt Cilly is dead and buried long ago. Oh, L;via, you don’t mean that—that he don’t know it?” “I do mean it.” said Livia, coldly. “I was told to notify him; it somehow ■ lipped my mind. Aunt Cilly surely made trouble enough when she was alive, without being an extra care after sho was dead. And what did you suppose wo acre living on? Did you want to see me going out as hired help, or to take a place at general house work yourself? I never saw any one so unreasonable in my life!” “But, Livia, that was a falsehood — is a falsehood!” protested iudignant Patty. “Who has told any falsehoods?’’ “To go on receiving money for the use of a woman who is dead, from a man who is a stranger to us—don’t you call that a falsehood?” “He need nt have been a stranger if he had behaved himself as he ought.” “Give mo the cheek, Livia. Let mo send it back!” pleaded Fitly. “I shall do nothing of the kind. Mr. Valiquet will never miss the money. He’s as rich as Croesus, and he is used to paving the sum once a quarter. Let him keep ou!” Patty’s cheeks flamed, her eyes glittered. “Livia!” she cried; “I never could have believed this of von.’’ Livia laughed and shrugged her shoul ders. She had most aggrevating ways ■ with her—this augei-faced young beauty, with the hair of gold aud the eyes like melting blue jewels. “It stings me to the very heart," said Patty, breathlessly, “to thiuk that all these months 1 have been living on charity. But 1 will do so no longer. I should be afraid that Aunt Cilly’s ghost would rise up and tinuut me. II you are going to keep up Ibis tissue of deceit von must do it by yourself." “Then," said calm Livia, “there will be the more for me to speud. Much obliged to you, 1 am sure, Douna Quixota!” • • » • • “Yes,” said Mr. Valiquet. dolling his hat to the tall, lovely girl who was so like a pure Bermuda lily, “1 suppose I ought to have been down long ago to see mV good old aunt. But we city people get involved in a perfect net of business absorptious. 1 chanced to be passing through Wilmerding, ten miles up the road, so 1 decided to make a detour. Sue is as well as usual, 1 trust?” “Oh, quite!” faltered Livia, growing hot and cold by turns. “May 1 see l er?” “1—I shouldn’t line to disturb her,’’ stammered Livia, the chill drops oi sweat dropping out on her brow, as she thought of poor old Aunt Cilly lying in the shadow of the churchyard wall. “No? Well, I’m sorry; but never mind. 1 dare say you understand her condition a deal better than I do. And vou are the young indy who has been her guardian angel? Oh, you need not blush. Mr. Balfour, the banker, has told me how faithful a nurse you are. We are both Aunt Cilly s rela tives. Does that not consilium a sort of kinship between ns?” He held out his hand with a frank smile?" Livia’s heart beat high with exulta tion as she gave him her own in return. “And your sister! You have a sister? ’ Livia hesitated. Ill such a network of treachery it was impossible to escape without a lie. “Mv sister has left us, ’ she mur mured. "She resented living on the money you send us quarterly!" "As if it were not my duty to send it, your privilege to receive it!" he cried. “Of all false pride that is the falsest!' “I endeavored Io convince her of that, but—” “And she has gone away and left you with all the care of t is infirm old lady on your hands?” Livia’s eyelashes gradually sunk; her head drooped; but she uttered no word of disclaimer. All this was a kind of tableau and Livia had a deal of theatrical element about her. “I never saw such a Madonna face in my life,” thought Paul Valiquet. “And she is mv cousin, too, in a cer tain way. Why did Aunt Cecilia never tell me what a superb creature she was?” As lie pondered he looked up at the porch roof, which had settled a little to one side. He observed a blind flap ping tiingeless in .the wind. •■Tilings un'iii to I*»» out of ropuir,” said he. "I believe I hud better pro long my stay a day or two and give a little personal supervision to (lie place. You can tell me, I suppose, what needs doing?” “I shall be so glad”' said Livia, "to be of use in any way.” If ever a man was dangerously near the pitfall of love at first sight it was Mr. Valiquet that night. Livia’s heart throbbed; she was a keen observer, and sho fell somehow that the supreme moment of her life was drawing nigh. Paul Valiquet went back to the inn, after promising to call early the next dav. From Sycamore cottage to the Fal mouth hotel was a mile by the high road. Across the mountain spur, past the little stone church, one could economize half the distance—"for them,” as the old wood-cutter grum bled, "ns liked to go past dead folks a- niglits.” Mr. Valiquet entertained no super stitions on the subject; but ho was a little startled when, in the light of the rising May moon, he saw a slight figure close by the wall and heard something like a sob. He paused. Just then the church door opened. Out came the grizzle- bearded sexton with a lantern in his hand. “Who is that, my man?” whispered Valiquet, motioning his hand toward the white, shadowy thing tiiat seemed a part of the quivering moonlight. “Miss Cilly Ramsay’s niece,” the sex ton answered, in au undertone. “Not the pretty one—the brown complected one. She «ns powerful fond of the old lady. She often comes here be tween daylight aud dark, and brings appleblows and wild lilies and the like. ’ “Miss Ramsay’s niece! But who is buried there?" “Why, Miss Cilly herself, to bo sure —six good months ago. It were when the leaves fell, in November.” “Miss Ramsav dead! My good friend, you must be mistaken. ' “We’s all liable to mistakes,” slow ly said the sexton, "but I’m right this time sure, squire, for 1 dug the grave and lowered down the coffin myself. Come, Miss Patty, dear,” he said, rais ing his voice, "I’m going homo now, and I’d be loath to leave you here in this gloaming all by yourself.” “Are you Miss Pattv Dayton?” said Paul advancing to meet the slight figure that flitted among the graves. "I am Paul Valiquet, and until this moment I have been in utter ignor ance of my aunt's death.” Patty hung her head. "Until to-day," sho murmured, “I thought you knew it all. My aister—” "I know," said Paul, compressing Ids lips. "I have just come from there. And you—can 1 see you safe to your home? Is it far?” “1 am boarding with the sexton's wife,” hastily answered Patty. "When I found it out—that you were kept in ignorance, you know—I could not stay with Livia any longer. I tench in the kindergarten, and earn a little for my self. Please don't trouble to como out of vour way, Mr. Valiquet." Siio glided on in advance. Valiquet could not follow her against her will. But, walking behind with the sex- ton, he soon learned all—Patty’s devo tion, her fidelity to the poor invalid, and Livia’s utter lieartlossness. As yet, however no one knew of the crowning fraud by which the elder sister had managed still to receive Auut Cilly'a quarterly allowance and expend it for her own use and behoof. And Mr. Valiquet kept the secret. He returned uo mote to Sycamore cottage, greatly to fair Livia’s per plexity. but he often came down to the sexton's dwelling. And one day lie asked Patty Layton to be his wife. ‘•But it can’t be possible,” said Patty “that you love me. If it were Livia, now------ ’’ "But it isn’t Livia!" declared Paul. “Darling, do you think 1 can't see that white soul of yours shining through its casket like a pearl? It is you that I love—your own sweet self!’ “I dunuo," said lhesexton, “whether folks kuow in the next world what sgo- in’ on in this: but if they do I'm cer tain that old Miss Ramsey is glad up in heaven that Miss Patty is married to Squire Valiquet. Au' as for we down below—me an' Deborah—we’re glad that Miss Livia lias got come up with as she deserves."— Saturday Hight. Distribution of Seeii. Mr. Darwin found that the small portions of earth attaching to the feet of migrating birds contained seed. Nine grains of earth on the leg of a woodcock contained a seed of tee toad rush. From six and a half ounces of earth rolled into a ball and adhering to the leg of a wounded partridge he raised eighty-two separate plants of live species. Migrating birds often frequent the edges of ponds ere their departure, and in six and three-quarter ounces of such mud lie raised under glass 537 plants. Seeds furnished with crowns, hooks, or prickles readily stick to the plumage of birds, which all such birds, and especially such wanderers as the albatross, might curry long distances. Apply these facts to the case of the Azores. Mr. Wallace fouud that the most of the plants of the Azorean flora are well adapted to be carried by tl e methods just suggested—forty-live of the 439 Dowering plants belonging to genera that have either pappus or winged seeds, sixty-live to such as have minute seeds, thirty to those with fleshy fruits which are greedily eaten by birds, some have hispid seeds, and eighty- four are glumaceous plants well suited to conveyance by winds and currents. The only trees and shrubs of this iso lated group are bearers of small berries, such as the Portugal laurel, laurn- stinus, and elder, while those with heavy berries, which could not be con veyed by the means suggested—oaks, chestnuts, hazels, apple, beeches, alders, firs—are absent, common as they are in Europe. The character of the flora is that of the southwestern peninsula of Europe, am) if we assume that one-half of its species is indigen ous the other introduced by European settlers, there is still a rich and varied flora which Mr. Wallace this'ks has been recently carried over nine bun» miles of ocean by the means just in dicated. There is probably no better example of ocean migration than teat offered by the Azores, aud it is be lieved that the phneomena in question are still in progress, and that 990 miles do not form the limit of the distance to which this same ocean carriage of plants extends. — Edinburg It. eii'.eo. Mr. Carroll's Portrait. An Indian Horae Race. , From an article, written and illus trated by Frederic Remington in the tentury, we quote the following. "An elderly Indian of great dignity of pres ence steps into the ring, and with a graceful movemeut throws his long red blauket to the ground aud drops on Ids knees before it. to receive the wagers of such as desire to make them. Men walk up and throw in silver dol lars aud every sori of personal proper ty imaginable. A Winchester rille and a large nickel-pfihdiir^Uolt's revolver are laid on the grass near me by a cowboy and an Indian, ami then each goes away. It was a wager, and I thought they might well have confi dence in their stakeholder—mother earth. Two ponies, tied head aud head were led aside and left, horse against horse. No excitement seemed to prevail. Near me a little half-Mex- i icon Comanche boy began to disrobe until he stood clad only in shirt and breech-cloth. His father addressed some whispered admonition and then led up a*roan pony, prancing with im patience aud evidently fully couseious of the work cut out for him that day. With a bound the little fellow landed on the nock of the pony only half-way up; but his toes caught on the upper muscles of the pony's leg, and like a monkey he clniubarfl^up .aud was in his seat. The p.^y'was as bare as a wild horse, except for a bridle, and loped away with his graceful little cider sitting like a rock. No, not like a rock, but limp and unconcerned, and as full of the motion of the horse as the horse's tail or any other part of him. “A Kiowa, with loose hair and great coarse face broke away from the group aud galloped up the prairie until he stopped at what was to be the starting- point, at the usual distance of ‘two arrow flights amj a pitch.' He was followed by half a dozen ponies at an easy lope, bearing their half-naked jockeys. The Indian spectators sat about on their ponies as unmoved iu countenance as oysters, being natu ral gamblers, and stoical as such should be, while the cowboys whispered among themselves. " ‘That’s the bay stallion there,'said one man to me, as he pointed to a racer, 'and lie's never been beaten. It's his walk-over, and I’ve got mv gun up ou hint with an Injun.’ “It was to be a flying start, and they jockeyed a good deal and could not seem to get off. But presently a puff of smoke came from the rifle held aloft by the Kiowa starter, and his horse reared. The report reached us, and with a scurry the live ponies came away from the scratch, followed by n cloud of dust. The quirts flew through the air nt every jump. The ponies bunched and pattered away ata name less rate, for the quarter-race pony is quick of stride. Nearer and nearer they came, the riders lying low on their horses’ necks, whipping and ky-yi-yi-ing. The dust in their wake swept backward and upward, and with a rush tbeyame over the scratch, with the roan peuj ahead, and my lit tle Iu'.- Hi felMPl holding 4is quirt aloft, and his l.|llb eyes snapping with the nervous excitement of the great event. He bail beaten the invincible bay stallion, the pride of th is Comanche tribe, and as he rode back to his father his face had the settled calm which nothing could penetrate, and which befitted his dignity asa young runner." The School Girl. The school-girl in all her phases is just now verv much in the public eye and heart. Everybody is Interested in her, from the fond mother who gives herself no end of worry about the as- sension robe—which.|in the vernacular, we call graduating dress—in which het daughter is to take her flight into that larger world that lies beyond the con- fines of school, to the proud young lover who hopes to see his heroine win nil the honors and glories of her class. Some tender soul lias said that a cluster of school-girls is a most pathetic sight and a wonderful mystery. Their soi rows aro all before them and their romance, too. Soon they are to scatter out of their happy world to go through the real novel that is not measured by three volumes. There are two things that surely we should never forget in thinking of these weak and thoughtloss little women. First, that it is unfair to the girl ever to ex pect education to give her the mind o! a boy, for the nature of her mind is as different as a young willow wand from a sapling oak; and secondly, that she is the woman of the future, and her worth to the world will not be measured by the amount of her learning, which, because of few years and delicacy ol frame, has its limits, but that her worth will be measured by her beauty of character, which is capable of de- ri.li ji -—<» - t . ii >■ mid depth and height beyond our mortal r< ekoning. —Detroit Free Hess. All Terryville, says the Hartford Times, is laughing over the adventures of Mike Carroll, a popular village character, in a traveling photograph gallery. Mr. Carroll is a ma., «Itli a fascinating brogue which escaped the notice of the revenue officer when the owner imported it from Cork. He is of noylly proportions and was an athTelfc^ his younger days; always good-humored when soberaud exceed ingly humorous at all other times. A portable photograph gallery was put together iu the village anil the villag ers became enthusiastic. Mike, after imbibing freely, visited the gallery. A contract was flnallv made and Mike sat down for his photo. “Now keep perfectly still," said the man with the camera. “Keep still, is it?" said Mine. “Nay- thur you nor the likes o' you can make me keep still.” "But I can't take a good picture un less you sit still." “Well, it’s me that’s payin’ for the picture, isn’t it?” asked Mike, “an’ if it is I’ll sit whichever way I like, an say whatever 1 plase, too.” By way of emphasis, Mike rose from his seat and sat down again with all his combined force aud weight. The chair was on casters and Mike in ris ing moved it away. As he sat down he grazed the edgo and went to the floor. Certain fastenings of the frail structure gave way, anil in the jar two corners of the building tumbled in Inventor Ellison's Queer Pillow. upon Miko just ns the photographer caught the scene. There was a great Not long ago 1 called at Edison’s demand for the photographs at 76 home, expecting to see him. He wasn’t cents each. there and Mrs. Edison told me she hadn't seen him for three days. I The Boat Ilalseil Itself. soon found that he was at his old tricks Speaking of remarkable incidents, I —working night and day in his labora can tell you one that I have seen tory, having his meals sent to hint and equaled, although it occurred more sleeping on the floor with his clothes than half a century ago. The steam on and a stick of wood under his head boat Charleston was on a trip from (or a pillow. When working he never Louisville to St. Louis with a big cargo leaves Ids laboratory, and he seems to of salt in barrels. When just below think that by keeping his clothes on Grand Tower, on the Mississippi, she he can better preserve the nervous came in contact with a sudden obstruc tension after he lias started to work, tion. While they were preparing to Then he perseveres until lie has ac put her afloat again, after being at the complished his purpose. His time he bottom of the river a day ami a night, regards as very ■Valuable, and this is she popped up with surprising sudden the reason lie doesn’t want to come ness with her deck to the top of the here until it is necessary. His deaf water. The salt in the barrels stored ness mis not improved any, remaining on her melted when it came in contact about the same. with the water, and the buoyancy of the barrels raised the boat to the sur face.— St. Louis (¡lobe Democrat. X Home Institution. Mrs. llighfeather—Has the Browning cult reached your town yet, Mr. Bas com? Mr. Bascom—No. he han't yet; but we re got a yoiiug boss by the name of Fetlock that’ll bent him to shucks, 1'11 bet.— Burlington Free Tress. Paper Pulp Out of Nnwduat. A mill has been established at Otta wa, Out., which makes paper pulp out of sawdust. The paper, made wholly from sawdust, is sa d to form nn ad mirable sheathing Ilia is lit for build ing nfter being lai red vid dried. A belter qunlity of paper is made by using oue-fo.'th waste paper. The mill lias n capacity for converting about 13,000 tola of sawdust into pulp anuuallv. ONE OF LINCOLN’S STORIES- I Tliwt Proved » l>aiiip»*r to a Clerical Gen- tlrm in*« Aspiration« to Office. Speaking of Gen. Harrison's ability to say au absolute and unmistakable “no' to certain persistent applications to office, a well known western sena tor recently remarked that President Liuculn, albeit an exceedingly patient chief magistrate, possessed the same emphatic quality, says a Washington eorrespomleiit of the New York Tri bune. His negations were frequently expressed iu a tuanuer which was pe culiarly his own. “A large aud influential delegation,” continued the senator, “had persist ently importuned Mr. Lincoln to have the rank of chaplain general created iu the army, having, of course, a rev erend peg ready to occupy the propos ed ecclesiastical hole. Upon tlie last appearance of thedelegation President Lincoln, tinding it impossible to con vince them of tne absurdity of creating the rank referred to, took another tack and inquired with apparent anxiety as to the qualifications of their particular candidate. The deputation enlarged Considerably upon Ins well-known piety and ardent devotion to the cause of religion, painting iu the most glow ing colors this 'Boanerges of thegreat and glowing west,’ as they graphically described him. Now. the fact of the matter was that President Lincoln had heard some rather alarming accounts concerning the reverend gentleman, whose amusements and accomplish ments were somewhat secular in their character; indeed, he hud been assur ed that this worthy representative ol the church militant had not, on sever al occasions, disdained the frequent potation in the beer saloons of his na tive town. “•Well,” remarked the president, in reply to their eulogiums, "I have heard statements made about the reverend candidate whom you are urging upon me which recall a little incident that happened the other dav. I was walk ing along a street here in Washington which was not much frequented. It had been raining, and there was a good deal of mud near the curbstones, and three or four boys wero carrying the unenticing mixture on pieces o< board and in old tin pans to a bigger boy on the sidewalk, who was laying off the mud by means of a wooden dauber which he had made, in a sort of regular plan of figure, comprising squares, parallelograms, angles and circles of various sizes. They were all working like beavers and didn’t notice my arrival until I was standing right over them, but finally their work seemed to be complete and they all stood round admiring it. “Well, my little man," f finally inquired, “what have you been making here?" The dirty little urchin looked at mo for a moment, with an expression of with ering scorn u|*in his grimy face, and then cried out: "Why, doncher see, or are you a blind man, nnyway? See here," he continued, pointiug to the different figures with his niud-dnuber, “this is a church why, hero’s the win- .low., t,w tl... a ' «pic, I.er«'« tlie or- gin, here's the pews, here’s the people, aud here's tlie pulpit, too," he finally concluded. “•“But where in the world’s the parson, mv little man?” I ventured to inquire. The boy looked at me for a second with inexpressible contempt, and then replied, with n bitter empha sis impossible to describe: “Why he’s the ornery, snivelin' cuss that’s snoop in’ 'round a-tryiu’ to marry my mother; there an’t mean enough mud in the whole blamed street to make him!”’ “That deputation.” pursued the sen ator, “filed out, one by one, from Lin coln’s preseuce iu a silence that could be felt."_____________________ Saved By the Irish. “1 paid a visit to Ireland a few vears ago,” remarked Judge Noonau of the Planters' House news-stand, “and in going up through Galway I had to make use of a jaunting car. The driv er. a thorough specimen of the peasan try, full of uative wit and shrewduess, had in some way discovered that 1 was from America aud after eying me keen ly for a time, asked: 'It’s from Ameri ca yez are?’ “1 acknowledged that such was the ease, and after a short silence, he asked again: 'How are theOirish gettiu' along over thaire?’ •• 'Bad,' said I. ‘very bad. They are by far the worst citizens we have. They are much worse there than at home even.' “He regarded mo with a queer twin kle in his eye, and queried: “Do you know phwat 1 think would become of vour counthry if it wasn’t for the Oirisli ?' •• 'Well, I had not thought,’ I re plied. 'but I am curious to know your opinion.’ "lie leaned over, and, lowering his voice almost to a whisper, he said: '1 thiuk it would be for riut.’ ”— St. Louis Novel Statistics. Here is something for the Statistical society, says the London Figaro. It has been calculated by a most devoted amateur of statistics that if the late M. Ciievreul, who lately died at the age of 103, had never cut his nails they would have obtained the 9th ult., the day of his decease, to the length of 203 inches. This calculation is founded on the fact which, according to physi ologists, may be safely accepted as correct—that the nails of the average mortal grow every year to the extent of an inch and two-thirds. Strange to say, however, the nail on tho middle finger grows a little more quickly than the others, and annually adds close on, two inches in its length. Il therefore follows, states the statistician, that M. 0'ievreul in the course of his protract ed life must have grown in all on his ten digits no less than 56 yards 1 foot of finger nail. Having thus intimated a new path along which the inveterate statistician mav ride his pel hobby, I will leave him to extend this interest ing inquiry as he may think best. R. H. ROSA, DEALER IN B andon , O regon . Cedar Flooring, Ceiling and Rustic Manufactured to order. Order« Promptly Filled For All KI im I« of Rough Lumber. SALOON, BANDON, COOS COUNTY, OREGON, ROUT. WALKER, Prop. jh'’» Lewi»' eta itand. Headquarters or Seafaiers, 8te*mLiat Men and Travelers. I.atmt San Francinco and County Papera. Billiards. How Large Was Ancient Rome? After carefully examining all the data we have, all the statements of the various ancient writers who allude to it, and all the facts which seem to beat- on the question, I am convinced that in estimating the number at 4,000.000 I am rather understating than over stating it. It is much more probable that it was larger than that it was smaller. De Quincy also estimates the inhabitants of Romo nt 4,000,000. I will only cite one fact and then leave this question. The Circus Maximus was constructed to hold 250,000, or, according to Victor, at a later period, probably 385,000 spectators. Taking the smaller number, then, it would be one in sixteen of all the inhabitants if there were 4.000,000. But as one-half Shipping the population was composed of slaves, who must be struck out of the specta Have on hand and are receiving by tors, when the circus was built there would be accommodation then for one every vessel in eight of tho total population, ex cluding slaves. Reducing again the number one-half by striking out the women, there would be room for one in 4. Again, striking out the young children and the old men and the sick Of standard brands and guaranteed and impotent, you would have accom purity and strength. modation for nearly the whole popula tion. Is it possible to believe that the Romans constructed a circus to hold tho entire population of Rome capnble of going to it?—for such must have been the case were thero only 4.000,- Dry and Clothing 000 of inhabitants. But suppose there were only 1,000,000 inhabitants, it is olain from the mere figures that it Of latest tries and patterns, and from ths would never have been possible to leading manufacturers. half fill the circus. — Blackwood's Mag- azine. Geo. M. Dyer & Son, BANDON, OREGON, General Merchants and Forwarding. Groceries & Provisions Goods Culinary Maxims. Beauty will buy no beef. A good stomach is the best sauce. Inquire not whnt is in another's pot. Better half an egg thau an empty ■hell. Better some of the pudding than no pie. He that dines and leaves lays the cloth twice. Make not your sauce till you have caught your fish. He fasts enough whoso wife scolds at dinner time. He who depends on auotber dines ill and sups worse. He deserves not the sweet who will not taste of the sour. He who would have hare for break fast must hunt over night. When a man can not have what lie loves he must love what be has.— Lucullus in Table Talk. Boots and Shoes, and Rubber Goods, Of all sixes and kinds always tn .took and on the way. GENTLEMEN’S FURNISHING GOODS OF ALL DESCRIPTIONS. Ocean and River Wharfage and W ehous